


Admin

by roswyrm



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Bureaucracy, Gen, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 08:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roswyrm/pseuds/roswyrm
Summary: Prompt: "I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!" "And I'm trying to avoid it!"





	Admin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hinotorihime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinotorihime/gifts).



> Thank you for the prompt, Emma!!! I can't write Grizzop or Wilde for shit, but!!! I sure did try my best!!! Working Title: _this is just a genre now, huh?_

They didn't set up watch tonight, they're all far too tired, but someone is sitting up. Grizzop doesn't know _who,_ because it seems like far too much effort to open his eyes. He can hear the _scratch scratch_ of pen on paper, though, and he'd bet nearly anything it's Wilde, still filling out reports. It's annoying. Grizzop doesn't like Wilde, doesn't think he'll _ever_ like Wilde, but he can't just let the man work himself to death.

He flails a hand in the general direction of the writing. "Stop that," he grumbles, and the pen halts. Grizzop tucks his hand back under his head, ready to get back to sleep, but then it starts up again. _Scratch scratch scratch,_ and Grizzop lifts his head off the ground to glare at Wilde. "Go to bed," he instructs, and Wilde raises an eyebrow at him. 

Wilde looks... tired. Exhausted, in a way Grizzop only really saw with Sasha when she was undead. He's not, like, _wasting away_ or anything dramatic like that, but there's something _worn down_ about the scowl he gives Grizzop. It's too late for Wilde to be worried about his illusion, and it shows. "You first," he says, and he looks back down at his work. 

Grizzop rubs the sleep out of his eyes and snaps, "I _was_ sleeping; you and your paperwork woke me up!" Wilde rolls his eyes. He _rolls his eyes_ at Grizzop trying to keep him from an early, bureaucracy-induced death! Grizzop is sorely tempted to bop him over the head so that he's forced to sleep, but Grizzop's probably not strong enough for that. "Wilde, come on. You can't keep going forever. Rest. The paperwork will still be there in the morning." 

Wilde scoffs. "I _do_ have a sense of object permanence, Grizzop. The explanation is appreciated, but wholly unnecessary." Grizzop squints at him angrily. Wilde doesn't look up.

_Scratch scratch._

Grizzop huffs in exasperation. "Y'know, I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you!"

"And I'm trying to subtly avoid it. Good night, Grizzop."

Grizzop very nearly _hisses_ at the dismissal in Wilde's tone, but he reins himself back; he is a Paladin Of Artemis, not some stray cat. "I'm going to get Hamid to make you Sleep," he threatens, and Wilde laughs. He _laughs_. Grizzop bristles.

Wilde retorts, "I don't think that would work, but by all means, go ahead." Grizzop stands up and marches around the low-burning campfire to get in Wilde's face; Wilde blinks up at him. 

Grizzop hisses, "Listen. We're all tired, and I know you are, too. You and your paperwork is keeping me awake. I'm not going to be able to protect you if I'm exhausted in the morning, and you won't be able to protect yourself if you don't _get some sleep._ So, basically, you have two options: Put away the admin and get some rest, _or_ I get Azu to bonk you unconscious with her axe. She's _probably_ skilled enough to do it without giving you brain damage, but I'm not making any promises. What'll it be, Wilde?" Wilde stares at him for a second.

Then he smiles, faintly. Just the slightest hint of upward tilt to his lips, but Grizzop is _very_ perceptive. (It's weird, that smile, but it takes Grizzop a second to understand why. It's strange because it's genuine.) Wilde says, "Careful. I might start thinking you care about me." He signs one quick line, before starting to pack up his papers.

Grizzop glares. "I care about your wellbeing. I don't care about _you."_ Wilde doesn't say anything to that. He hums, _mm-hm,_ in the way you do when you know the other person is lying but you don't want to call them out on it directly. Grizzop doesn't deign to respond. He stalks back to his spot by the dying fire and curls back up. 

Grizzop doesn't hear so much as one _scratch_ the rest of the night. The only sound he's aware of as he drifts back to sleep is the chirping of crickets.

(And Sasha's snoring, but that's just background noise, at this point.)

**Author's Note:**

> im on tumblr @roswell-the-wrongdoer come send me a prompt!!!!


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